


yours, etc.

by monaslefteyebrow



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pride and Prejudice Fusion, Alternate Universe - Regency, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 09:54:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14234742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monaslefteyebrow/pseuds/monaslefteyebrow
Summary: It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a life partner.A Pride & Prejudice/OMGCP crossover.





	yours, etc.

**I**

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a life partner.

Naturally in a world such as this, filled as it is with challenges and unforeseen twists, it is entirely unconscionable to attempt to surmount life’s adventures on one’s own. The only way to lessen inevitable burdens is to share the weight of them with a sturdy set of shoulders paired with a steady heart by one’s side.

The generous fortune that accompanies such a partner is merely an additional blessing.

It had long been the hope of Suzanne Bittle that her own children might find favor in the eyes of a generous gentleman or lady, such was the hope of any mother. But five children all out in society was a sufficient enough challenge to test anyone’s ambitions to arrange a suitable match, let alone when the children were in possession of such poor fortunes. Suzanne’s spirits had been downtrodden as of late, that was of course until Judith, ever inclined to be the first to share the most salacious news, announced that a man of a considerable fortune had taken up Samwell.

But as it seemed to be an informal responsibility of a committed wife to be long-suffering, once again she was met with her husband’s tedious indifference upon her declaration. Her children, however, even William, bless his heart, seemed intrigued by the notion which spurred her onward despite her husband’s lack of answer upon her sharing the news. “His name is Mashkov and Judith says that his as single as the day is long. And his fortune! Lord, I have been told he is the recipient of four to five thousand _a year_! Can you imagine such a sum? I daresay we could not ask for a more fortuitous blessing for our children.”

Richard sniffed before deciding to indulge his wife, “In reply to your question, I can not imagine such a fortune,though I am equally at a loss to imagine how this affects our children in any way whatsoever.”

Suzanne’s indiganance grew at the flippant remark, “You do try me so. Of course you remain aloof to the pertinence of these circumstances. Naturally we must arrange his marrying one of them! It would secure the future of the one married, and to think of what such an association would do for the prospects of the others! You must go and make his acquaintance.”

Richard seemed to consider the idea for a moment as his children and wife waited with bated breath and anticipation, only to be quickly disappointed by his reply. “Surely it would be better for you to go yourself, Mrs. Bittle, since you have thorough designs for this prospective match.”

The firmness with which Suzanne placed her hands on her hips seemed to echo the firmness with which she was attached to the idea of making Mr. Mashkov’s immediate acquaintance. “You know entirely well that I can not go and see Mr. Mashkov by myself, how impertinent that would be! It is entirely out of the question. You must go and put in a good word.”

The pause in conversation, allowed by Richard’s silent musing and Suzanne’s vexed fretting, provided opportunity for Christopher, who had been attentively observing the conflict unfold along with the rest of his siblings, to interject. “Certainly Mr. Mashkov must be lonely, coming from so far a place to his new home where he knows so few. It would be the kind thing to do, calling upon him if even for a few moments.”

“Lonely indeed.” Derek agreed, though by his mischievous expression it was likely he was suggesting Mr. Mashkov was suffering from a more salacious sort of loneliness.

“Ah, well. If Mr. Mashkov is so incredibly lonely, it would surely be of the utmost compassion to relieve him of his misery.” Richard said.

The remark sent Suzanne rushing to her husband’s chair, eager to receive confirmation. “Does this mean you will call upon him?” she asked. Richard offered a reserved shrug in reply. “I simply cannot endure this teasing!” Suzanne exclaimed. “I hope that you derive immense pleasure from the manner in which you choose to torture your wife, perhaps it will bring you comfort in your old age when your children are left unmarried and penniless!” Heated from her impassioned declaration, Suzanne sat herself on the sofa next to William, who had been devoid of any particular dedicated interest in the matter. “I wish to no longer speak of this Mr. Mashkov, since he is set to play no part in our lives. We will cease this line of discussion at once.”

Richard sighed, feigning an immediate air of disappointment. “How unfortunate this is. If I had been privy to your feelings on the matter earlier I would have refrained from making myself known to Mr. Mashkov just this morning. I can not help but feel rather mortified, what with his acquaintance being so inevitable now.”

Eric, who had been silent up until this moment considering he was entirely accustomed to the theatrics of his parents, spoke. “Do tell us if you are serious.” he urged, “If not mama’s sake, than for ours considering what she is wont to do if you are speaking in jest.”

A nod of confirmation on Richard’s part sparked a tumult of delight from his wife and children alike. It was not long before the room descended into lively conversations regarding what one should wear or say when meeting the mysterious Mr. Mashkov at the upcoming ball. It seemed, at least for the moment, that the family’s prospects were bright.

**II**

Friday found the Bittles engaged in the same amusement as the rest of Madison, at the ball waiting for their opportunity to catch a glimpse of the most eagerly awaited guest, Mr. Mashkov. Everything was generally as it should be. Christopher and Derek flitted from party to party in pursuit of a dance partner that suited them best with William reluctantly accompanied them, Suzanne was proudly held court, informing anyone who had the patience to lend her their ear of the reciprocal visit Mr. Mashkov had paid her husband, Richard kept primarily to himself while Kent, Eric and his dear friend Larissa were entrenched in deep conversation. Despite all of the evening’s attendees giving off airs of being otherwise employed, the whole of the room had one eye trained on the entrance doors with anticipation.

“My parents say Mr. Mashkov has not taken up Samwell alone.” Larissa said from where she sat in the corner of the room, “He is joined by his sister Camilla, along with his friend Mr. Zimmermann. His sister is apparently a fearsome woman, well traveled, elegantly dressed and thoroughly educated.” Eric and Kent exchanged a look, their mother would be delighted in learning that her children were now offered not one, but two potential marriage prospects, but that happiness would be immediately diminished if she thought their prospects contested by Mashkov’s cultured sister.

Kent spoke, always skilled with appearing positively neutral towards the subject at hand. “Is Mr. Zimmermann set to be married?” he asked. “Perhaps to Camilla? She certainly sounds like a worthy woman.”

Larissa shook her head, “No, he is said to be single. Though,” she paused, “Camilla seems very...fond of Mr. Zimmermann. Were marriage a possibility I do not think she would object.”

“We have heard only generous compliments regarding Mr. Mashkov’s character. He is said to be well-mannered, overwhelmingly agreeable, handsome. What of Mr. Zimmermann?” Eric asked.

Larissa frowned slightly, “He is wealthy, to be sure.”

Eric sighed in exasperation, “Please, Larissa. Have you ever known us to speak in anything less than frank terms with one another?”

Larissa smiled slyly, “He earns ten thousand a year, but I have heard whisper that he is such a deeply miserable man that the sum is necessary in order to compensate for the poor nature of his character.”

It seemed to Eric that Mr. Zimmermann was out of the question, Mr. Mashkov would have to be sufficiently appealing. Certainly if he was as decent a man as had been suggested, he would be taken with Kent. Kent was considered so pleasant and agreeable that most thought him entirely benevolent, though Eric knew that it was simply because his brother was inclined to guard himself. Eric, in contrast, was fairly well-tempered but unfortunately did not share his brother’s talent for putting on amiable pretenses. How many times his mother had lamented that he was far too easy to read.

Eric intended to ask Larissa why Mr. Zimmermann bothered coming to Madison at all if it was such a profound imposition, when the hall fell silent. In walked three persons, two men, distinguishable by the eager grin one sported in contrast to the sour expression of his companion. The third was a woman, blonde and egregiously overdressed for the occasion, though she walked with an air that made Eric question if perhaps he and everyone else were the ones at fault.

“Who is the poor soul with the pitiful expression?” Eric whispered to Larissa as the proper platitudes were made.

“That would be Mr. Zimmermann, the one eagerly bowing is Mr. Mashkov and then lastly Camilla.” Larissa replied.

Eric nodded. “You were not misleading in how you represented him. He is a gloomy sort of fellow. I am not sure I could be partial to him for even five thousand a year.” he said, though tracking Mr. Zimmermann with his eyes all the while.

**III**

Everyone in the hall was determined to get their word with the honorable guests, so it was some time later that Eric found himself engaged in conversation with the two gentlemen, Camilla otherwise occupied.

Ever since they had made acquaintance with one another Mr. Mashkov had been staring fixedly at Kent, delight clear in his expression. Kent continued to give of an air of kind impartiality, but Eric knew with a sibling’s intuition that he was silently pleased. He made a mental note to interrogate his brother later, before taking his opportunity to speak, “How do you like it here in Madison, Mr. Mashkov?”

Alexei’s smile broadened to a grin, and he took to answering without ever removing his gaze from Kent, “Much. Lots to see.” _One thing to see_ , Eric thought silently, without jealousy.

Eric glanced at Mr. Zimmermann, hoping perhaps to gain an attentive conversational partner in him, but rather than affection-induced distraction he found disgruntled irritation. Still, in an effort to remain polite Eric pushed forward. “I have heard wonderful things about the food served at Providence. Your cook must be delighted, with such a plentiful array of fresh fruits and vegetables from the gardens on the grounds. And I have been told your gardener is experimenting with new growing techniques.” Mr. Zimmermann’s gaze shifted from where it was focused dully across the room, choosing to peer instead down his nose at Eric. Eric was not sure that he preferred it.

“I promise you that growing potatoes is not as exciting as you make it out to be.” Mr. Zimmermann said cooly. His gaze flicked down to Eric’s mud-flecked boots, then back up. “Things covered in dirt rarely are.” It was impossible to ignore the way the barbed remark stung, though Eric, with a dislike for confrontation, managed to extricate himself from Mr. Zimmermann’s company with a gentle tilt of his head rather than a retort. There was no need to voice his very firm assessment that wealth, for all that it provided for security in a chaotic world, seemed to offer little in terms of manners if Mr. Zimmermann’s behavior is to be believed.

Unfortunate, since the man was almost handsome.

* * *

 

Eric was almost granted the blessing of remaining in less offensive company for the remainder of the evening, but that hope was brought shortly to a halt as he was forced to bid goodbye to Mr. Mashkov, drawn along by Kent who insisted they give their leave before departing. Regardless of the genteel airs Kent put on, Eric knew full and well that his brother’s determination had little to do with a commitment to decorum and significantly more to do with how entirely infatuated he was after dancing not once, not twice but _thrice_ with Mr. Mashkov. Naturally, Mr. Mashkov, with Mr. Zimmermann scowling by his side, greeted them with a broad smile. It truly was unfortunate that such an affable man be tied so closely with such a disagreeable one. But while Mr. Zimmermann was hopeless, as most men were, there was no need to dash Kent’s chances. As such, Eric put forth his utmost efforts to remain courteous.

“I hope we have managed to provide you with the same degree of amusement you have given us by joining us here this evening,” said Eric politely.

“Of course. Lots to see. People to talk to.” Mr. Mashkov replied, ever amiable, “People to dance with.” Kent was immensely fortunate that he was so difficult to read to the untrained eye, but Eric was attuned enough to observe a light flush rising at the tips of his ears.

“I am surprised you found even three things worth marveling at.” Mr. Zimmermann intoned, deciding to ruin an otherwise fine moment. “Though an appreciation for the...simple can demonstrate an air of humility.” 

Any endeavors Eric had planned to attempt to revive his good opinion of Mr. Zimmermann ceased immediately. “I have found that appearances do little to tell a comprehensive story,” Eric said, meeting Mr. Zimmermann’s gaze resolutely. “Even if it is covered in dirt, it can prove to be worthwhile. Unfortunately, the opposite can also be true. Even the most polished of silver can be devastatingly disappointing.”

Perhaps it was Eric’s willful imagination, but he almost thought that Mr. Zimmermann looked abashed.

**IV**

In the darkness of night, Eric and Kent were bundled in the comfort of their bed, exchanging whispered secrets in the flickering of candlelight.

“Mr. Mashkov was rather handsome, was he not?” Kent asked, sounding wistful.

“Perhaps, if the size of one’s nose is a testament to their good looks,” Eric replied, his smart remark earning him a swift kick in the leg, though Kent knew Eric meant no insult, his broad grin suggested only fondness for his lovelorn brother. “I can not help but think that it was _you_ he found especially handsome.” Eric continued. Kent flushed, and Eric seized the opportunity to proffer a gentle encouragement. “You reveal your feelings so easily now, but I am afraid Mr. Mashkov will think you indifferent if you play your cards so close to your chest. I know you are not so pure as to think everyone universally good, but a stranger would think you hold an unconditionally high opinion of the world with how little you dare to express your opinions.”

Kent was silent for a moment and Eric thought perhaps he had gone too far, when suddenly his brother spoke. “Our hearts are vulnerable places. It takes a degree of bravery to let ourselves be seen.” Kent said quietly.

Eric reached out, finding Kent’s hand as a gesture of comfort. “I know it is difficult. We can not all have Christopher’s blind enthusiasm, Derek’s cool demeanor or William’s stubborn determination.”

Kent snorted indecently. “Nor should we,” he interrupted.

“Nor should we.” Eric agreed, “But there is something to be said for being willing to share, at the very least, a small part of ourselves.”

Kent frowned at that, “And be so easily scorned? I still can not believe how freely Mr. Zimmermann permitted himself to speak in front of you. I am not endlessly virtuous, but I would hate to think myself so self-important.”

Eric sniffed, “He may think himself as self-important as he pleases, I refuse to think of him at all. We will spend our time instead thinking of how best to help Mr. Mashkov fall even more madly in love with you.” Once again his remark earned him a gentle swat, though this time it was accompanied by laughter that carried the pair of them further into their hushed conversation.

**V**

It seemed that Eric’s scheming on how to win Mr. Mashkov’s affection was entirely unnecessary, since it was not more than a few days later that Kent received an invitation from Camilla to join her at Samwell in order to dine. Of course it was to their mother’s dissatisfaction that Mr. Mashov would not be present, but it was still a sign of progress all the same. However, despite both Eric and Kent’s urgent insistence that Kent be permitted to take the carriage, no such leave was granted and Kent was forced to go by horseback. It had not been long since Kent had departed that it began raining. As a consequence, Eric received a letter of his own a day later informing him that Kent had fallen ill due to traveling in such miserable conditions and would recover at Samwell.

Eric hoped that Mr. Mashkov and his associates had not underestimated the love of a brother, for as soon as he heard the news of Kent’s poor health he set of for Samwell by foot. It was not until he was being announced to Camilla and Mr. Zimmermann who were enjoying luncheon that it occurred to him that by going to inquire about Kent’s health he would be face to face with Mr. Zimmermann once again. The man stood immediately at Eric’s entrance, a formality he had not expected to be granted considering Mr. Zimmermann’s previously poor opinion of him. Still, he nodded in greeting.

“I am here for my brother,” Eric said.

Camilla seemed entirely disinterested in the matter, choosing instead to ask a question of her own. “Your boots, Mr. Bittle. They are six inches deep in mud. Did your brother take the only horse, leaving you to walk?” She said it in jest, but Eric nodded quite seriously.

“Not our only horse, but I did walk. I have found that fresh air does quite well for invigorating one’s spirits.” Camilla scoffed, returning her attention to her tea while Mr. Zimmermann continued to stare in silence. Eager to be removed from such uncomfortable company, Eric continued, “I am told that Kent is ill?”

Mr. Zimmermann seemed to take the prompt as an opportunity to gather his bearings, “Yes. He is upstairs.”

Eric smiled in gratitude, albeit stiffly, before exiting the room in pursuit of Kent. He found his brother comfortably situated in bed, surrounded by every sort of luxurious pillow and fine bed linen possible. Despite the splendid nature of his surroundings he looked sickly, much to Eric’s dismay. “I am not sure if falling ill at Mr. Mashkov’s will work in your favor or against it.” he teased, helping Kent reach the cup of tea that sat at his bedside. “Though considering I suggested you show more of yourself, this is one way to complete the task.”

Kent smiled, though exhaustion remained embedded in his every gesture. “They have taken very good care of me, and I have received quite a deal more solitude than I would have at home.”

Eric nodded, having taken to fussing with blankets. “Be that as it may, I can not restore your health with my soup from here like I could were you at home,” he said.

The door to the bedroom opened and Mr. Mashkov entered, glancing fleetingly at Eric before once again his eyes found Kent. “I am just wanting to check on our guest.” He said.

Eric smiled, it was reassuring to know that though he himself was unable to care for Kent, someone earnest and kind was. “My brother was just telling me what exceptionally good care he is receiving during his stay. It was generous of you to allow him to recover here.”

Alexei waved a dismissive hand, “Is my pleasure. I am glad he is sick here.” His brow furrowed, “I am not being glad he is _sick_ , is just good that he can be sick _here._ ” Alexei’s words seemed to continue to dissatisfy him so he continued, “Am happy I can help.” he settled on finally.

Eric looked at Kent’s face and saw fondness there. “I am confident my brother could not be in more dedicated hands,” he said, and meant it.

* * *

 

Fortunately, Kent recovered without further incident to his health, though that was not to say that this passed without the larger Bittle family committing an offense. Eric loved his family dearly, but a part of him silently begged for subtlety when his mother brought the carriage to collect Kent. She had unnecessarily brought Christopher, Derek and William, likely not wanting them to miss out on the excitement. Eric appreciated their youthful eagerness but knew Camilla clearly felt otherwise. Kent had already been such a large imposition, despite Mr. Mashkov’s insistence to the contrary.

They said their goodbyes as the family got in their carriage, Camilla still coolly polite. Eric thanked her for her stimulating company and she returned the favor, though Eric though it likely both parties were aware of the other’s aversion to the other. Eric’s farewell to Mr. Zimmermann was fleeting, both allowed a nodded acknowledgment to the other before Eric moved to step into the carriage. A hand enveloped his, and it was only after he recovered from the coolness of it that he realized it was Mr. Zimmermann’s. Eric sat, and before he could offer his thanks, Mr. Zimmermann had turned back towards the house. Eric watched the broad-shouldered figure retreat and declined to address why he felt so fully the ghost of Mr. Zimmermann’s hand in his.

**VI**

Mr. Knight was of a unique character.

That was how Eric decided to tentatively classify the man upon his arrival. He visited their home as not an entirely welcome guest, calling on the Bittles in order to see his inheritance in person. Eric was not sure of the specifics of the legal arrangement, but he and all his siblings knew what mattered: upon Richard’s death Mr. Knight was set to inherit and the Bittle children would be left without much to call their own. It made for a stilted dinner, to say the least.

So far Mr. Knight had conducted the majority of the conversation during their meal. Eric thought he had never met a more scattered person, as Mr. Knight jumped to yet _another_ conversation topic. He already spoke at length of his career as a barrister turned clergyman. Apparently, during his time as a barrister he found those occupying a similar employment unpleasant, condescending and proud so he had taken up a parsonage offered by Lord Whisk and found his home there. His new career offered him a special independence and the ability to talk at length without being interrupted, which was ideal.

“I am hoping that my visit will not only give me the opportunity to survey my inheritance, but perhaps to also make the acquaintance of a suitable marriage prospect.” Mr. Knight said, continuing on his latest tangent.

Suzanne, like Richard, seemed unsure of what exactly to make of Mr. Knight. “While we may not have the same amenities of those in town, but I think you will find that all of my children are intelligent and well-mannered, Mr. Knight, much like the company we choose to keep,” Suzanne said.

Mr. Knight nearly knocked his glass over in his eager attempt to placate any offense, which garnered a laugh from Christopher and a wary eye from William who was far too used to Derek’s own clumsiness. “Of course, m’am. I did not make the suggestion in contempt! ‘Suitable’ is in no way meant to diminish the talents of your children.”

Before Suzanne could respond, calling attention to the fact that the insult came not from discussions of suitability but from his brazen discussion of viewing his inheritance which was, in fact, currently their _home_ , thank you, Eric intervened. “What qualities do you find most desirable in an accomplished partner, Mr. Knight?” he asked, desiring only to divert the conversation away from potential conflict.

Mr. Knight, always eager to speak, took to the question immediately. “It would be difficult to select only a few, when their execution depends so heavily on the woman, or–” he seemed embarrassed, “–I mean to say. The _person_ in question.”

He had barely finished before Derek cut in, “Are you partial to a certain sex, Mr. Knight?” he asked innocently. Christopher failed to resist the temptation to laugh freely at the remark, while William choked in shock on the bit of dinner that he had just been endeavoring to enjoy. Eric exchanged a look with Kent, who frankly seemed delighted by the controversy.

Mr. Knight was startled but managed to regain his bearings sufficiently enough to reply, “I think we pay far too much attention to the matter.”

Derek considered this for a moment before he turned to Kent, “Was it in Ephesians that Paul wrote that we must put off falsehood and speak truthfully to our neighbor?”

Kent was unable to restrain a snort before he replied, “I am inclined to believe it was. What say you, Mr. Knight? Is my brother’s memory correct?”

Mr. Knight was suddenly very interested in his potatoes, “It was Paul, yes. Though ambiguity is not the same as deceit.”

Derek smiled over his glass, “I never intended to suggest that it was, though would you consider your original answer ambiguous?”

Mr. Knight flushed. “I merely meant that regardless of my own possible partiality,” he began with a glance at Suzanne, “it is Solomon who tells us that love should be patient, kind and not envy. I do not find that those qualities are particular to a certain sex, rather that we should transcend the rigid confines of classification when pursuing the kind of love that the Lord ordains.”

Derek had no smart reply to Mr. Knight’s statement, a romantic at heart he was touched by the poetic nature of the remark. Eric wondered if Mr. Knight even desired a partner, or if it was the obligations of his position that forced his hand. Unfortunately, he was never given the opportunity to ask Mr. Knight as the man quickly diverted the conversation to his lengthy feelings about the antiquated conventions of the church.

**VII**

Mr. Knight seemed inclined to stay for some time, and while his unrepentant enthusiasm had worked in his favor to endear the Bittle family, Eric decided that perhaps some time apart would be reinvigorating. The fact that this decision was made after Mr. Knight was so generous as to entertain them with yet another extensive diatribe regarding his strong feelings on the rigid structures of the church was of no consequence. Ever since visiting Samwell when collecting Kent, Derek and Christopher seemed convinced that their efforts to persuade Mr. Mashkov to host a ball had been successful. As such, a visit to town seemed suitable in order to peruse potential cravats and buttons for the evening.

Derek and Christopher led the party with a reluctant William at their heels, Kent and Eric conversing behind them. Derek believed deeply in his skills in flirtation and so was instructing his siblings on the best way to charm someone. “It is best for your efforts to seem as uncontrived as possible.” He said as they walked, “Desperation is unappealing, as is agitation.” He looked at William over his shoulder, “It is why you so rarely set people at ease, William. Were you to relax it would be far more pleasant to keep your company.” Naturally, William’s sensibilities were immediately offended at such a remark and thus the brothers began to squabble.

“Derek, do you have to tease him so?” Eric asked tiredly, moving to separate the pair. On occasion he would leave the pair to their quarreling, but Christopher was beginning to look distressed and it would not do to create such a scene in public. Just as he positioned himself between the two young men he felt a tap on his shoulder. When he turned, he found a militia officer in a generous bow, extending his handkerchief. Eric took the handkerchief tentatively and bowed in kind.

“I am wont to say that I am returning your item as a courtesy, but it would be far more honest to tell you that it is a ploy in order to make your acquaintance.” the man said.

Some may have found his frankness offensive but Eric found it refreshing if not flattering. “I appreciate the kindness, it had escaped my notice that it had slipped away.”Eric replied, “However I also appreciate the opportunity for an introduction.” The man was tall, his face difficult to see what with Eric facing the sun, though he seemed handsome.

“Mr. Johnson.” the man said, “I am here with the militia.”

Derek stepped forward, “We had heard that the militia was in town but had yet had the fortune of speaking to any officers, would you care to join us?” William was situated behind his brother, which was likely best considering the way in which his expression revealed how thoroughly unimpressed he was with his brother’s flirtations.

Christopher was less resigned, “Please consider indulging us with your company, Mr. Johnson. Surely you have stories to tell of your time traveling with your regiment.”

Mr. Johnson smiled, “Unfortunately my travels have not been extensive, but it would be my pleasure to accompany you.”

The Bittle siblings’ time spent with Mr. Johnson was pleasant, if not at times perplexing due to the man’s ambiguity. At one point Eric inquired how long Mr. Johnson would be stationed in Madison and he replied that it would be brief, only as long as was required to move things along. Still, he was well-mannered and pleasant to look at. In addition, he was extensively patient with Christopher, Derek and William, which only served to charm Eric further.

They were walking back home, since unlike haughty individuals that Eric did not care to mention,Mr. Johnson thought Eric’s affinity for walking to be pleasing, when they saw two figures on horseback approach them. It was only as they drew closer that Eric realized it was Mr. Mashkov and Mr. Zimmermann. While Eric was filled with reluctance, Christopher and Derek did not hesitate to capture their attention.

“Mr. Mashkov! We have only just returned from town, I think news of your ball has likely increased business tenfold with all the excitement!” Christopher said happily.

Mr. Mashkov laughed, “I am having to host it now. Too many people to let down.” Christopher was pleased, having received assurance that there would, in fact, be a ball. It was Mr. Zimmermann who looked considerably less delighted, his attention fixed on Mr. Johnson who returned his gaze, though he seemed entirely unaffected.

“You should invite Mr. Johnson, Mr. Mashkov.” Derek said, “He is fantastic company.” Mr. Zimmermann’s visible displeasure grew at the suggestion.

“Only if Mr. Mashkov is able to extend such an invitation.” Mr. Johnson cautioned, “Though I will say that if I am unable to create excitement, I do like partaking in it.” To Eric, that seemed to be the last bit conversation Mr. Zimmermann was willing to entertain. He turned sharply, riding off without even so much as saying goodbye.

Mr. Mashkov seemed surprised at his companions abrupt departure, but remained courteous. “All welcome. More is merry.” he said cheerfully, “I should be going. Was great to see.” This seemed to be directed earnestly at Kent, who was smiling more than he had all day, though his wave to Mr. Mashkov was reserved.

The palpable tensions between Mr. Zimmerman and Mr. Johnson occupied Eric’s thoughts the rest of the walk home, and it was only when Eric was left alone with Mr. Johnson that he was given the answers he had silently been asking for.

“You and Mr. Zimmermann have already been acquainted.” Mr. Johnson said. Eric nodded and Mr. Johnson continued, “What do you think of him, at this point?”

Eric thought it strange that Mr. Johnson allowed the possibility of Eric’s poor opinion of Mr. Zimmermann to change, but answered, “I find it likely that we hold one another in equal contempt.”

Mr. Johnson nodded, “He can be cold, a consequence of his past.”

That struck Eric, “His past?” he asked.

“Oh yes,” Mr. Johnson replied, “Mr. Zimmermann has a rich history. We were friends in childhood.” Eric found it difficult to imagine Mr. Zimmermann as anything less than the gloomy figure he currently painted, but of course even the worst of people were children once. “His father was a good man, compassionate and gracious. He was fond of me, and I of him. Zimmermann was completely jealous of this, never quite learned to share I suppose. Took it to poorly, so poorly in fact that he let his vices get the best of him.”

Eric was shocked, “What kind of vices?”

Mr. Johnson chose to once again invoke ambiguity, “Various substances. He eventually hit rock bottom. When his father passed I was set to receive a reasonable sum, a parting gift from his father. In Zimmermann’s recklessness, however, he spent it all away. Consequently, I joined the militia and now I am here to tell you this story.”

Eric shifted from surprise to barely contained anger, “But that is entirely unconscionable! To think he struts around with such haughty airs when he himself has acted with such poor taste. How could he do such a thing?”

Mr. Johnson shrugged, “Why does anyone act in the way that they do? We are subject to our own self-inflicted biases, pride, prejudice, greed, jealousy.The point is ultimately that I think your opinion on him suitable for the moment.” Despite the odd phrasing, Eric was inclined to agree.

**VIII**

The ball could not have arrived at a more opportune moment. Eric was rather taken with Mr. Johnson and hoped that the evening would allow them to enjoy one another’s company further. Derek had spent the most time preparing, but Eric was not immune to excitement either. Larissa had insisted he take advantage of the occasion and he allowed his image to be taken entirely into her hands. The result was a rather ethereal impression, an all-white ensemble with delicate fabrics, and upon her insistence, his hair styled becomingly with pearls here and there.

William was the only one not rife with eagerness, having already deemed balls a miserable way to spend one’s time. But even his lack of enthusiasm could not tamper everyone’s anticipation. They arrived at Samwell and the family quickly dispersed, Christopher and Derek determined to find dance partners and William their serious accomplice, while Suzanne said hello to those she knew along with Richard. Mr. Mashkov captured Kent’s attention immediately, wanting to express how deeply delighted he was that they arrived. Eric hoped to find Mr. Johnson, so he and Larissa made their rounds.

It was only a short time later that they were found by Kent, who looked grim. “Mr. Johnson is not here, nor will he be.” He said apologetically while Eric attempted to ignore the sting of disappointment. “I am told that he is otherwise detained by a superior. He finds it regrettable, but less so considering that joining us would also mean having to keep Mr. Zimmermann as additional company.” Eric knew it was juvenile, but he could not help but be upset that Mr. Zimmermann’s profound unpleasantness has once again ruined what would have been an otherwise lovely evening.

He was unable to dwell on the feeling long, as they were joined by Mr. Knight. “Mr. Bittle, would you do me the honor of joining me for a dance?” It was the absolute last question Eric had anticipated being asked and so he was ill prepared with a reasonable excuse to decline the offer.

Dancing with Mr. Knight proves to be an experience unlike any other. Eric should have been prepared for his dance partner to apply the same wild exuberance that seemed inherent to his person to the art of dancing itself. While Mr. Knight’s confidence and vigor were encouraging, Eric’s feet were rather worse for the wear from being repeatedly stepped on by the time their dance was completed. He managed to excuse himself, citing the need for a refreshment, and hoped to use the opportunity to recuperate. The ridiculousness of Mr. Knight’s dancing left him feeling lighter, having lifted the rather sour mood he had developed after hearing the news regarding Mr. Johnson, but that reprieve was short-lived as he was stopped by Mr. Zimmermann.

Eric nodded curtly, disinterested in being in Mr. Zimmermann’s company longer than was absolutely necessary. Mr. Zimmermann, however, seemed to have planned otherwise. “Perhaps you may indulge me by joining me for the next dance,” he asked. Whatever Mr. Zimmermann’s malicious designs, Eric was is not interested in entertaining them. However, it was likely Mr. Zimmermann was extending the invitation in order to appear charitable, knowing that Eric would decline. It was a double bind, if he said yes he would be forced to endure the man’s superior airs, if no then he would be playing directly into Mr. Zimmermann’s hands. A decision had to be made.

“It would be my pleasure,” Eric replied, though his tone clearly indicated that it would be anything but. But the die had been cast, which was how Eric ended up standing opposite who he considered the most odious man alive. The dance began, but despite Mr. Zimmermann having been the one to contrive this engagement he remained silent. Eric eventually relented, “It is typically customary to at least feign interest in one’s partner.”

Mr. Zimmermann made eye contact briefly before he looked away, “I am well versed in the proper decorum, thank you.”

Insufferable man. “Perhaps you should choose to exercise it then,” Eric said airily.

“If you insist, I will. Do you and your brothers often walk into town?” Mr. Zimmermann asked.

Eric who had moments ago felt sure-footed in his command of the conversation was suddenly at a loss. “I daresay we do. There is plenty to see, both in town and on the journey itself.” Eric finally said, and after a moment’s consideration added, “It is also a welcome opportunity to make new acquaintances. You found us the other day just as we had  been so lucky to make a new one.”

Mr. Zimmermann’s already cool demeanor chilled further, “Mr. Johnson does seem to so easily captivate the unsuspecting. Though I suppose it is not difficult to exercise such charms when you can tell tales so well.”

“Mr. Johnson does enjoy telling stories, coincidentally he told me a most interesting one on that day.” Eric said immediately, finally beyond feeling limited by the impulse to maintain any sense of propriety. “It is such a shame that he is no longer blessed with the joys of your company.”

Mr. Zimmermann seemed perturbed himself as he quite frankly replied, “I am afraid that my good opinion once lost, is lost forever.” Their positions shifted, once again circling around one another.

“Are you really so severe a person?” Eric said as they stopped, stepping backwards to once again form two lines with their fellow dancers.

“I hardly think it severe to be in possession of sound judgment," Mr. Zimmermann bit back.

“My sound judgment has decided otherwise,” Eric said with finality.

The dance ended, and as soon as was appropriate Eric turned on his heel and escaped Mr. Zimmermann’s unforgiving gaze without another word.

William was right, Eric thought. Balls could be rather unfortunate.

**IX**

Unlike Eric, the rest of the family had a completely splendid evening. Christopher and Derek spoke at length about their various dancing partners and trysts over breakfast the following morning. Kent’s mind seemed otherwise occupied, and Eric suspected it was less a matter of where he was in his imagination and more a matter of who _with_. Even William had been drawn into an exciting game of whist, so the night had not been a total loss.

Eric decided to sit in his own unpleasant mood rather than ruin the contentment of his family with it. He was so busy with his own perceived misfortunes that it was not until Mr. Knight burst into the room that Eric realized he had not been present. “I was hoping,” Mr. Knight said stiffly, very unlike himself, “To seek an audience with Mr. Bittle.” All eyes immediately went to Eric and it was then that he realized with dawning dread that he had been had.

“Kent.” Eric muttered desperately, “Kent, please. Stay.”

Kent had already stood, Eric’s only solace was that it had been done reluctantly.

“Mamma, no. Let us just– I am certain that Mr. Knight can say whatever is necessary in the presence of the entire family. There is really no reason to-” Eric begged, but Suzanne ushered the family from the room and waved goodbye as the door shut behind her.

Mr. Knight wasted no time.

“It is my intention,” he began, without his usual confidence, “to let my feelings be known.” Eric dreaded the coming words and kept his gaze fixed on the table in front of him. “It has not escaped my notice that you did not consent to a private audience with me, but I still hold out hope that my words will be welcome ones.”

Eric shook his head, “Mr. Knight, this really is not–”

“MARRIAGE” Mr. Knight continued “IS A GIFT.”

“It is a gift if it is desired, but if it is not then–”

“I AM TRULY FORTUNATE TO HAVE FOUND IN YOU A PLEASANT ENOUGH PROSPECT FOR A SUITABLE MARRIAGE.”

“It is complete unnecessary to yell and I hardly think– I’m sorry. Pleasant _enough?”_

“Mr. Bittle, willyoudomethehonorofgivingmeyourhandinmarriage?” Mr. Knight asked in a rush, looking altogether miserable.

Eric had not gone to great lengths to imagine what the moment of his engagement would bring, he was not the daydreamer Derek was. But certainly in the moments that he had entertained such thoughts he had not pictured deafening yelling accompanied by a barely intelligible question. Eric stood, “Mr. Knight, though your proposal is very inventive I can not accept.” Mr. Knight opened his mouth but Eric cut in before he could start on another monologue.

“Mr. Knight, do you even find me the least bit desirable in that capacity?” Eric asked.

Mr. Knight’s shoulders fell, “It was my hope that perhaps I could grow to love you.”

The heartbreaking frankness and desperation touched Eric, but his answer remained the same. “I am sorry.” he said, “But I have to maintain my declination of your generous offer.” Eric tried to offer the man a comforting smile before he slid out of the room, his mother’s cries following him as he left.

* * *

 

Suzanne was beside herself that Eric had turned down the marriage offer, but attention paid to Eric’s offense was short lived as Kent received a letter the following day. Eric knew that whatever the contents of the letter were, it had to be grim. Kent locked himself in the confines of their room for a full hour before he came out to allow the rest of the family to be privy to what it said.

“Mr. Mashkov is gone?” Eric asked in shock as he skimmed the words before him.

Kent nodded, “Mr. Zimmermann longs to see his sister before he and Mr. Mashkov travel on to Faber. Camilla aims to be granted the privilege of treating her as a sibling of her own and–” Kent swallowed, took a steadying breath and Eric watched as cool indifference forced its way onto his brother’s face. “-And Camilla made it abundantly clear that I should not waste valuable time hoping that I may receive the same opportunity in regards to herself.” Eric stepped forward and placed a hand on his brother's shoulder that was immediately shrugged off.

“I am fine, Eric. Why feel otherwise?” Kent insisted, tone mild. “Our short flirtation means even less to me than it does to him.”

Eric frowned, “But that is hardly the case. He loves you, Kent. I am sure of it. It is his pernicious sister who has persuaded him otherwise.” Kent crumpled the letter, but did not disagree with his brother’s assessment. Eric would not relent, “Aunt Judith and her husband have just gone to their home in Faber, you must join them. Make it known you are there and he will come to you. He will take it as evidence that you are not to be separated.”

Eric saw the first signs of vulnerability as Kent hesitated, “You are sure that he loves me?”

Eric smiled, “I believe him incapable of feeling otherwise towards you since the moment you were introduced.”

**X**

With Kent gone to Faber, Eric was forced to occupy himself in order to not feel his brother’s absence so acutely.Affection in their family was mutually exchanged, but they did all have their pairings. Odd as their relationship was, Eric did not long for the day where William, Christopher and Derek would be separated. As a distraction, Eric took to the kitchen, as he was wont to do, and had just rolled out a sweet pastry when Suzanne informed him he had company.

To his delight, Larissa entered.

“Larissa! Your timing is impeccable. I do hope you brought an appetite along with your good company.” He embraced her, and upon doing so felt apprehension in how she held herself.

“I am afraid I have not the inclination to dine at the moment, but the offer is appreciated,” she said.

Eric waved her off and turned back to the counter, to continue to roll the dough,“Entirely fine. By the time I am finished perhaps you will feel otherwise.”

“Eric.”

“I was thinking raspberry would make a most delicious filling, but perhaps rhubarb?”

“Eric!”

Eric stopped and returned his attention to her, she was stiff. “What is it?” he asked. Larissa took a steadying breath, “I am here to tell you the good news.” Eric’s brow furrowed, “What news?”

“I am engaged to be married to Mr. Knight.”

Eric was stunned, “I beg your pardon?”

Larissa continued, “You know I am no romantic, I have not considered marriage at length with anyone. But Mr. Knight has much to offer in security as well as in companionship.”

Eric nodded slowly, “He is a kind man, if at times a bit obtuse one.”

Larissa still appeared dissatisfied, “I am aware this is only a short time after he expressed his wishes to marry you.”

Eric failed to stifle a laugh, “Larissa, ‘wish’ is a strong word for someone who was so wholeheartedly reluctant to know me intimately.”

Finally, some of Larissa’s true character emerged. “He seemed to ask me willingly, which I suppose is one advantage my proposal holds over yours,” she said with a sly smile. The pair laughed together, before falling silent. Some of Larissa’s uncharacteristic timidity resurfaced. “I hope this does not upset you.”

Eric, heart aching at Larissa’s fear that he could ever hold her in ill regard, did not hesitate to hug her, “My dear Larissa, do not even entertain such a foolish idea. You are content with this outcome?” Larissa nodded. “Then I could not be happier in extending you my sincere congratulations. And,” he paused, “in a strange way, I find this a rather suitable match.”

Larissa embraced Eric once again before she stepped away, “Will you visit once we are settled? You know I have the creative mind to decorate what will be our home, but your expertise regarding how to domesticate it would be valuable.”

Eric nodded eagerly, “Of course, though I think you will have a steady partner in that regard. Mr. Knight carries strong opinions concerning the division of marital responsibilities. Still, we can begin your education now. Come join me.”

Together they returned to the task Eric had originally begun, chatting happily with one another.

* * *

 

Mr. Knight was the face that greeted Eric upon his arrival at Larissa’s new home. Jovial as ever, he insisted on giving Eric a comprehensive tour of the house and surrounding grounds. It was not an exceptional estate, but it was indeed charming in its own way. During the tour Mr. Knight spoke highly of Larissa and their budding marriage, which made Eric feel that despite being subject to his mother’s ire due to declining Mr. Knight’s offer, perhaps it had been the best decision after all.

“Just there is my wife’s private quarters,” Mr. Knight said as they walked the grounds surrounding the home, “Did you know that she is exceptionally accomplished in the arts? She has already completed several exquisite paintings for our home, one of which we gave to the Whisks to show our gratitude for the generous wedding gift. Of course it was returned, apparently it created a sense of dissonance with their preexisting decor, but I thought it a nice gesture.” Eric attempted to hide the offense he took at the idea of depreciating Larissa’s art, not wanting to be uncivil.

“Our garden is just there.” Mr. Knight said and gestured to a small plot of land, “We grow a...variety of plants.”

This peaked Eric’s interest, “Oh really? What in particular? I was just considering cultivating a new set of herbs. There are a few that I think would be fantastic in a stew.”

Mr. Knight was anxious suddenly andincreased his pace, urging Eric along, “Nothing of note, nothing of note.”

Eventually they entered the home, Mr. Knight announcing Eric’s arrival. Larissa greeted him warmly and showed him to the parlour, but when Mr. Knight attempted to follow he was stopped short by his wife, “Husband, I think our guest would rather like to give his ears a rest along with his feet.” Mr. Knight look suitably chagrined and nodded. Before he departed however, he pressed a quick cheek on Larissa’s cheek.

Larissa shut the door and turned back to Eric, blushing. He decided he would pretend he had not seen the affection, just this once. They sat opposite each other and Larissa poured two cups of tea. “Mr. Knight seems incredibly content, I hope you feel the same?” Eric probed.

Larissa, always reserved, permitted a small smile to slip. “He is an agreeable companion,” she said. “He enjoys me as I am, it was just the other day that he–”

They are interrupted by a shout from Mr. Knight. Thinking it a consequence of his usual behavior, Eric and Larissa walked slowly to the window rather than rushing. Upon having reached it, both looked towards Mr. Knight’s voice and caught a glimpse of a stately carriage riding away. Mr. Knight pulled the window open to speak with them. “It was Lord Whisk. We have been invited to dine with him this evening,” he said.

Eric was unimpressed, still reflecting on the Whisks’ lack of gratitude that Mr. Knight had informed him of earlier. “I am afraid I did not bring along the appropriate attire to dine with a lord,” Eric said as an attempted excuse.

Mr. Knight failed to bite, “No matter. Etiquette is derived from manners, not the state of one’s dress.” 

Eric smiled politely, though it was forced.

**XI**

In his imagination, Eric had pictured Lord Whisk to be an elderly, superior man with little allowance for humor. Two of those qualities proved true, the foremost being incorrect as Eric learned when he greeted a man who was possibly younger than himself. Lord Whisk was aloof and fastidiously concerned with decorum as demonstrated by the severe censure Mr. Knight received for sitting next to his wife. He was forced to move, while Eric did his best not to cause offense by selecting the wrong utensil or breathing incorrectly. By contrast, Lord Whisk’s brother Anthony was warm, conversational, if not excessively curious. Eric found the juxtaposition striking.

But Lord Whisk’s appearance was hardly the greatest surprise of the evening. Instead, Eric was shocked into silence by the attendance of one Mr. Zimmermann. If the man was likewise surprised, Eric was unable to tell; Mr. Zimmermann was as distant as ever. Eric had anticipated an intimate dinner, but was thankful for the extended party, Larissa, Mr. Knight, Lord Whisk, Anthony and a genial fellow, Colonel St. Martin, as it allowed him to sit farther down the table rather than in Mr. Zimmermann’s immediate proximity.

“Mr. Bittle,” Lord Whisk began as they enjoyed their soup, “I am told you have a number of siblings.”

Fond of his family, Eric readily nodded, “The oldest is Kent, then there is William, followed by Christopher and Derek.”

Lord Whisk considered that, “Are any of them creatively minded?”

Again, Eric affirmed the question, “Derek is something of poet.”

“Do you write? Perhaps play an instrument?” Lord Whisk asked.

It was then that Eric realized this was less of a conversation, more of an inquisition. “I am afraid I do not," he replied.

That clearly dissatisfied their host.

“You have no talents at all?” Lord Whisk asked, alarmed.

Eric hesitated but ultimately decided to speak, “I am partial to spending my time in the kitchen.”

Lord Whisk sat stiffly and the mood of the dinner shifted. Eric thought it likely he would be subject to a bout of indigestion later as a consequence of the stress. “Do you mean to tell me,” Lord Whisk said slowly, “that rather than instructing you on the useful ways that a gentleman should occupy himself, your tutor allowed you to while away your time in the kitchen like a common cook?”

Eric flushed, both out of embarrassment and consequent anger that he was being made to feel embarrassed at all, “I am afraid I will disappoint your Lordship by informing you that we never had a tutor.”

Lord Whisk put down his spoon, “No formal instruction at all?” Eric shook his head.

Lord Whisk gave Eric a long look before he resumed eating, “I have always been suspicious of idle hands. Our father,” Lord Whisk gestured to his brother, “rarely allowed us leisure time. We were subject to constant instruction, and the better for it. Are any of your younger siblings out, Mr. Bittle?”

Eric preemptively resented the response he knew his answer would elicit, “Yes, sir. All.”

The silence that followed was more uncomfortable than any barbed remark.

Finally, Lord Whisk spoke, “How very strange you are, Mr. Bittle.”

Eric took a steadying breath before he replied, “I would hate to be a bore, it hardly attracts compelling company. Far better to do things in one’s own way and be of a unique character.”

Lord Whisk’s expression cooled, “You give your opinion very decidedly for so young a person.”

Eric almost laughed at the irony of the statement, but simply smiled instead, “And here I thought your lordship was without humor.”

Without further reply, Eric returned to his meal.

* * *

 

Eric thought himself beyond further examination, but he was proved otherwise after dinner.

“Are you musical, Mr. Bittle?” Anthony asked as the dinner party sat by the fire, conversing over cards and coffee.

“I am afraid I am forced to give you the same answer I gave your brother earlier, my creative talents are few and far between. I only ever learned one song on the pianoforte when I was young, and even that is barely pleasing to the ear.” Eric said, thinking that the end of it.

“Why?” Anthony asked.

Struck by the strangeness of the question it took Eric a moment to find a suitable answer, “I was never particularly partial to it, I found it difficult to sit for the length of time necessary to practice.”

Anthony pressed further, “Do you often struggle with extending the appropriate attentions to task?”

Eric was at a loss, “I am not sure that I–” he was saved from answering by Lord Whisk’s interruption.

“Do play for us, Mr. Bittle.” Lord Whisk said loftily.

Eric shook his head vigorously, “You flatter me sir, if you think that my playing could do what I am sure is your lovely pianoforte justice.”

Lord Whisk stared at him, “I insist.” Unable to think of a way to decline and unwilling to incite further conflict, Eric relocated to the pianoforte in the corner. Each note he played dragged as he struggled to recall the piece from memory.

His poor skill was exacerbated by the pressures of Mr. Zimmermann’s watchful eye, which he became subject to when the man moved to stand near him. “I am afraid even your judgment is unable to worsen my already poor playing, Mr. Zimmermann.” Eric said, focus placed firmly on the keys.

Colonel St. Martin joined them before Mr. Zimmermann replied, with what Eric was sure would have been a bitter remark. “Did my friend behave himself in Madison?” he asked Eric.

Eric paused his playing for a moment but he resumed shortly after, “Do you seek flattery or frankness, Colonel?”

Colonel St. Martin grinned, “Frankness, always.”

Eric shook his head, “I wish I had a more favorable report, sir. When he was not busy being miserable, he studiously avoided becoming engaged in a dance. In fact, I have only known him to extend the invitation once, to me, and even then I was forced to conduct the conversation.”

It was Mr. Zimmermann’s turn to be embarrassed, and he appeared suitably so. “I did not know anyone beyond my own party.” he insisted.

Eric sighed comically, “How distressing that must have been, in particular when you went to such great lengths to extend welcoming airs, making your very best effort to gain new acquaintances.”

Lord Whisk called for Colonel St. Martin’s attention, leaving the pair alone. Eric played on, only ceasing when Mr. Zimmermann broke the silence. “I struggle,” he said, “to dismiss my anxieties well enough to speak freely with those who I am not already comfortable with.”

Eric removed his gaze from the pianoforte for the first time, meeting Mr. Zimmermann’s instead, “It seems, however, that you are skilled in your attentions. Perhaps if you extended them to practice instead of inexperienced musicians you would find conversation less vexing.” They looked at one another for a long moment before Lord Whisk’s insistence that Eric resume playing broke the tension they carried between them.

**XII**

Larissa had gone out to paint and Mr. Knight had accompanied her in order to carry the requisite supplies. In turn, Eric agreed to put together a quaint picnic and join them in due time. He contemplated what task to set himself to next, the jam or preparing the cold meats, when his thoughts were interrupted by an unexpected arrival. “Mr. Zimmermann,” Eric said, astonished. Mr. Zimmermann appeared deeply uncomfortable, standing in the doorway of Larissa’s kitchen.

“I had not anticipated the lady of the house being out of doors,” he explained.

Eric thought that they had to look ridiculous, himself staring surprised with spoon in hand, Mr. Zimmermann out of place in the chaos of the kitchen. “She has gone out, I am afraid. Mr. Knight as well.”

“Yes.” Mr. Zimmermann replied.

Eric waited, expecting the conversation to progress further but with no reply felt obliged to fill the pause. “I am preparing a picnic. Larissa and I thought it best to take advantage of the excellent weather.”

Mr. Zimmermann cleared his throat and opened his mouth before once again closing it. “I see.” he eventually said. With the situation having moved from ridiculous to completely nonsensical, Eric thought it illogical to adhere to the common protocol.

“Would you care to assist me?” Eric asked.

Mr. Zimmermann’s complexion colored, “I can not say that I have spent considerable time refining my skills in the kitchen.”

Eric extended the spoon to him, “You are capable in a number of areas, think of stirring the jam as simply opening up new avenues.” To Eric’s shock, Mr. Zimmermann huffed a laugh and accepted the utensil.

They worked in silence, Eric instructing Mr. Zimmermann on what to do every now and then. Though they spoke little, Mr. Zimmermann seemed surprisingly at ease. Eventually Eric decided to breach quiet. “You are said to have a sister, Mr. Zimmermann, but I have heard so little about her.”

The gentleman smiled at the mention and it occurred to Eric that this was the first instance in the entire time that he had known Mr. Zimmermann that he had seen it. “She remains at Providence to her own displeasure. She longs to travel alongside me, but it is impractical considering the demands of her education. I am sure you are familiar with the eagerness of a sibling.”

It was Eric’s turn to smile, “Absolutely.” But his expression shortly faltered, “Derek was invited to stay with my Aunt Connie and her husband just before I left. I worry about Christopher, what with me gone as well as Derek all at the same time. I am fortunate that Kent returned from his visit to Faber before I left on this particular trip, my concerns can at the least be marginally alleviated.”

Mr. Zimmermann hummed in thoughtful understanding, “It is difficult to be parted from those we carry affection for.” Eric thought that it almost sounded as if Mr. Zimmermann was suggesting something.

He heard the front door open, shut and Larissa walked in laughing with Mr. Knight behind her. The pair stopped short, just as shocked as Eric had initially been at the sight of Mr. Zimmermann here of all places. Mr. Zimmermann’s sense of ease evaporated instantly, he set the spoon aside and collected his hat. “Good day,” he said uncomfortably, and left without further word.

A stunned silence followed which Larissa broke, “What on earth have you done to Mr. Zimmermann?”

**XIII**

Mr. Knight’s Sunday sermon consisted of exclamations made at varying volumes accompanied by wild gesticulation. When he was not being thoroughly entertained by the theatrics of it, Eric was inclined to agree with some of the thoughtful points Mr. Knight posed. Still, the ritual of it was long so Eric conversed with Colonel St. Martin at certain points in order to occupy himself.

“How long will you staying at Lord Whisk’s, Colonel?” Eric whispered.

“As long as Mr. Zimmermann has need for me,” the man replied.

Eric found this amusing, “For all he is good at, his foremost skill is in ordering us poor souls around, is it not? Perhaps he should marry and acquire a lifelong partner to instruct.”

Colonel St. Martin laughed quietly, but answered with seriousness, “He would be a lucky man.”

Eric frowned slightly, “He?”

The colonel nodded subtly, “Indeed. Mr. Zimmermann is dedicated, attentive and impossibly loyal. His husband would be happy to be the recipient of such affection. Only just recently he saved his own friend, Mr. Mashkov, from an unfortunate match.”

Eric went still.

“What compelled Mr. Zimmermann to think the arrangement so imprudent?” he asked shakily.

Colonel St. Martin, unaware of Eric’s distress, shrugged, “There were objections to the man’s family, I believe. Mr. Zimmermann thought his interference was necessary after Mr. Mashkov was blinded by his good opinion. All the better for it to save the poor man from heartbreak.”

Eric’s eyes found Mr. Zimmermann’s figure among the congregation. How different he looked now in the light of this revelation from the man Eric had known in Larissa’s kitchen. “Yes,” Eric said distantly, “Much better indeed.”

* * *

 

Desperate to get as far away from Mr. Zimmermann as possible, Eric fled the church as soon as the sermon commenced. He had originally gone to church with Larissa by carriage, but the urgency of his departure required he walk rather than wait. To his misfortune it started to rain in torrents shortly after he began his journey. Eric decided to cut through the park, recalling a Grecian rotunda not far that he could seek refuge under.

After he found shelter, Eric attempted to catch his breath. He turned and very nearly shouted in alarm. Mr. Zimmermann stood opposite him, equally drenched. “I called your name, you did not wait.” Mr. Zimmermann said.

“I did not hear you,” Eric replied genuinely, frozen to the spot.

Mr. Zimmermann was clearly agitated, but spoke anyway, “I have needed to speak with you, urgently, for quite some time now.”

Eric shook his head, “I must regretfully insist that it is really not the time, sir. I was only just returning to–” Mr. Zimmermann interrupted him,

“ _I_ must insist that I can no longer wait. I have spent nights attempting to rationalize my feelings. I have been tormented by my commitment to my values and senseless anxieties alike. After endless examination I can not bear it any longer. You must–” Mr. Zimmermann’s words faltered, but with clenched fists he found them and continued, “You must know that I came here to see you. I did this, against the inferiority of your birth, the superiority of rank and circumstance, the advisement of my own conscious. I can no longer endure this agony. I have to tell you. I have to let it be known that I...I admire you. I _love_ you. Most ardently.”

Eric was conflicted for a moment.

Then he was infuriated.

“Let me first extend my profound gratitude that you think so highly of me, though every force that be, perhaps including God himself, thought it unconscionable that you find yourself attracted to me in any way.” By the stunned look on Mr. Zimmermann’s face, this was not the reaction he had anticipated. However, Eric was not finished. “Truly, I know now that I could never be able to pay true reparations as restitution for the wretched pain I have caused.”

Mr. Zimmermann appeared distressed, “You laugh at me.”

Eric crossed his arms, “Not at all, sir. I fail to find a single aspect of this miserable circumstance that is laughable.”

Mr. Zimmermann looked insulted “Am I truly so repulsive to you?”

“Not your person but your actions.”

“My actions?”

“To speak so freely of love and admiration, yet to have dedicated yourself to perhaps the eternal unhappiness of my dear brother and your own friend. Not to mention that had the theatrics of your proposal been enacted by someone else, it would suggest them to be in possession of remarkable depths of compassion. However I know this to be untrue. You have shown yourself to be entirely devoid of tenderness by how thoroughly you ruined Mr. Johnson’s chances”

Mr. Zimmermann was once again stunned.

“Do you deny it?” Eric asked, daring him to do so.

“I decline to entertain any of Mr. Johnson’s stories. But in regards to your brother, I do not deny it.” Mr. Zimmermann replied.

Eric’s anger evaporated, replaced by pain at the admission.“How could you act so cruelly?” he said softly.

“I believed him indifferent.” Mr. Zimmermann insisted, “At the worst Mr. Mashkov's feelings went unnoticed, at the best your brother was aloof.”

Eric was wounded, “ _Aloof?_ His true feelings were just as, if not deeper than, Mr. Mashkov’s.”

Undeterred, Mr. Zimmermann shook his head, “He displayed no strong passion, and this was without the question of your fortune, the interference of your mother, the indifference of your father, and the absurd giddiness of your other brothers.”

Eric took a trembling breath. “It is difficult to be parted from those we carry affection for.” he said, echoing Mr. Zimmermann’s words from only a few days prior, “But I do not imagine it will be a struggle in the slightest to be separated from you.” Unable to be tormented by insults any longer, Eric stepped out into the rain, finding the storm preferable over heartache.

* * *

 

Eric retired early, unwilling to feign contentment in front of Larissa. He asked not to be disturbed, yet received a knock at the door. He opened it to find Larissa, who looked concerned and had a letter in hand. “It is from Mr. Zimmermann, the man delivered it himself.”

Weary from the events of the day, Eric failed to muster even the slightest air of surprise. “Thank you, Larissa,” he said and took the letter before he closed the door.

Initially, Eric was inclined to leave it for later, or perhaps not read it at all. But even in his sadness he was unable to resist temptation and so sat to read it.

_I will refrain from once again imposing upon you my sentiments which were so disgusting to you. Rather, I write this letter with the hopes of illuminating the details of two offenses you have laid against me. I am not so disillusioned to think myself redeemable in your eyes, though I would prefer your resentment towards me be well-founded rather than rooted in misunderstanding and falsehood._

_The first is the circumstance surrounding your eldest brother. Though my actions have caused both his and your severe displeasure, they were truly well-intentioned. Your brother has consistently conducted himself gracefully and was not at a loss for smiles or turn of phrase when around Mr. Mashkov. However, when I looked beyond his manners I failed to see any true passion. This suspicion was confirmed when your brother visited Faber and made no effort to seek out Mr. Mashkov. The weight in opposition to the match became heavier when considering the circumstances of your family. Had I believed your brother’s feelings to be stronger, then perhaps those issues would have been surmountable. But that was not the case. Noting the growing attachment Mr. Mashkov had for your brother, I intervened in order to spare him the heartbreak and harm to his reputation. Though you consider my interference objectionable I acted with the aim of protecting a friend._

_Secondly is the matter of Mr. Johnson. I have done my best to keep my relationship with him confined to the past, yet he seems determined to affect my present. I do not desire to discuss him longer than is necessary, but you seemed misguided regarding our history together. I knew Mr. Johnson in childhood, we were friends. Upon my father’s passing he was left a generous sum. It was more than enough to live comfortably, but Mr. Johnson suggested that he was in need of more in order to fulfill the demands on his professional ambitions. Concerned about the ambiguity of the claim, but wanting to honor my father’s affections for him, I acquiesced. The money disappeared shortly after._

_He returned to Providence where he endeavored to charm my sister. Persuading her of a mutual love between them, she agreed to elope. Unfortunately, his love was not dedicated to her but to her inheritance of roughly thirty thousand pounds. I managed to save her from the arrangement before her reputation was lost forever, but I could not save her from the humiliation and despair she felt. I hope this better explains the frustration I likely communicated upon gaining knowledge that he had made acquaintance with you and your family._

_It is unlikely that I will ever see you again, much to your relief, I’m sure. Our previous meetings were primarily the consequence of my attempts to see you, but having heard your feelings towards me made quite frank I will pursue this no longer. For all that I disappoint you, I still wish you the very best. I hope this letter finds you well._

_Yours faithfully,_

_Jack Zimmermann_

**XIV**

Eric thought returning home would put him at ease, but instead he was tortured further by keeping the recent events secret from his siblings. Informing Kent of what had transpired with Mr. Mashkov would have only served to wound him further, telling Christopher would make him excitable and William, though he feigned indifference, would likely write to tell Derek immediately. It was far more prudent to keep the events to himself. It was for this reason that Eric eagerly accepted an offer from Aunt Judith to travel the countryside with her and her husband. He saw it as an exile of sorts, a way to temper his mood properly in order to keep biting his tongue. William’s sage pronouncement only served to spur him onward, for what are men to rocks and mountains?

The trip consisted primarily of enjoying nature, open skies, dense forests and towering cliffs. On the fourth day, to Eric’s dismay, his Aunt suggested they visit Providence. Eric insisted that it was not worth the visit, but with their close proximity and both his Aunt and Uncle’s strong desire to see it he found himself being given a tour of Mr. Zimmermann’s estate by the housekeeper. They walked through the library, an understated room with incredibly high ceilings and seemingly endless rows of books. “My master is a quiet man. He enjoys reading and is especially fond of history, though he often endeavors to broaden his horizons.” the housekeeper said, “Only just recently he ordered a set of cookbooks.”

Eric stopped in his place, standing in front of a bust that he had wanted to examine, “Cookbooks?” he asked.

The housekeeper nodded with a smile, “Indeed.”

Aunt Judith laughed, “How very odd that is!” She moved to stand next to Eric, “Is this a replication of Mr. Zimmermann himself?” she asked.

Eric startled, he had not realized when approaching it that the bust was of Mr. Zimmermann.

“It is, done several years ago. I would consider it a fairly accurate representation.” the housekeeper answered.

Aunt Judith gestured towards it, “Is it an accurate likeness, Eric?”

Eric took in the sharp jaw, the long bridge of the bust’s nose. Naturally the bust was in marble, but Eric found it easy to imagine the blue hue of Mr. Zimmermann’s eyes. “I dare say it is,” he told his aunt softly. The housekeeper resumed speaking, but for Eric it was merely background noise, entranced as he was with the face of the man in front of him. It was only when he looked away that he realized he had been left behind. He moved through the house, seeking to rejoin the tour and seeing more of Mr. Zimmermann’s furniture, decor and hints of leisurely occupation. As he took in Providence’s elegant splendor it occurred to Eric that the house revealed far more of Mr. Zimmermann’s personality than the man himself shared with the world. The library alone had instructed Eric on several of the man’s interests.

As yet another room proved empty, Eric considered exiting to the grounds and waiting for his aunt and uncle to find him. He was distracted, however, by the sound of voices. Thinking it his group, he moved towards the noise. He peeked through a doorway, but rather than finding his aunt, saw a young woman sitting on a settee laughing. It was then that he noticed Mr. Zimmermann sat next to her.

Against his better judgment, Eric gasped in surprise. The reaction garnered the gentleman’s attention and suddenly Eric’s eyes were met with Mr. Zimmermann’s through the crack in the door. Eric obeyed his first instinct and ran, but the house was a maze. In his desperation he managed to find a door exiting to outside and he pushed through it. But his efforts to escape without reprimand were fruitless as he heard Mr. Zimmermann call his name. Eric stopped and turned, well aware of his blush. “I was not aware you were home. I am traveling with my aunt and uncle and they suggested we come and see your estate. I did not intend to intrude on the privacy of your home but they moved the tour elsewhere whilst I was distracted. I am really. I am so terribly sorry.” Eric said quickly, aware that his talking was excessive.

Instead of appearing angry, Mr. Zimmermann looked at Eric in rapture with a ghost of a smile on his face. “Are you having a pleasant trip?” he asked.

Eric nodded vigorously, “Yes. Thank you. We leave tomorrow.”

Mr. Zimmermann appeared to be disappointed,“So soon. You are staying in town?”

Again, Eric nodded, at a loss for what else to say. He had not anticipated seeing the man, the housekeeper had informed them that Mr. Zimmermann was still in Faber. Bewildered by his own feelings and scattered thoughts, Eric began to walk away, “I will just be getting back then.”

Mr. Zimmermann stopped him, “Indulge me, let me take you back by carriage.”

Eric waved him off, “Walking is fine, truly. I enjoy it.” Mr. Zimmermann reluctantly agreed and watched as Eric left.

* * *

 

Eric hoped that would be the end of it, unsettled by his sudden meeting with Mr. Zimmermann. But upon arriving at their lodgings, his aunt informed him that Mr. Zimmermann had invited them to dinner the following evening. They had accepted and the trip would be delayed a day. Eric slept restlessly and was sure he looked something of a mess. But Mr. Zimmermann and the young woman Eric had seen through the door yesterday greeted him, his aunt and his uncle with warm smiles the next day. Eric was reminded of the same warm smile Mr. Zimmermann had given him in the comfort of Larissa’s kitchen.

“We are so glad you could join us. My brother has said ever so much about you” the woman said.

Mr. Zimmermann flushed, “My sister, Ford. She is partial to embarrassing her brother.”

Ford laughed, “Only when necessary. I find it useful in ensuring he refrains from being too prideful. Would you not agree, Mr. Bittle?”

Eric smiled. “I do hope your attempts are not made in vain,” he replied, trying to hide his astonishment over the difference between the Mr. Zimmermann he first met at the ball at Madison and the Mr. Zimmermann that stood before him now, vulnerable, teasing and at ease.

“Do you enjoy the theatre, Mr. Bittle?” Ford asked.

“I can not say I have much experience with it,” Eric apologized, “though when we were younger my siblings and I would reenact plays from my father’s books.”

Mr. Zimmermann laughed, but Eric was surprised to find he did not feel slighted. “How charming.” Mr. Zimmermann remarked, and Eric believed him to mean it.

“My brother just gifted me a set of Shakespeare’s works. I was hoping we could enjoy them together.” Ford said.

Eric looked to Mr. Zimmermann, not wanting to intrude, but found only soft affection in his expression. “I would be delighted. I can think of a more suitable way to build up an appetite for dinner.” Eric said.

Ford looked to her brother, pleased.

**XV**

 

This time, Eric allowed Mr. Zimmermann to escort him and his family back to their lodgings. Pleasant was not a sufficient word to describe the evening, the food had been delicious, Ford was friendly and engaging and Mr. Zimmermann was not at all what Eric had been expecting after the conflict that had transpired between them. “You have been an incredibly gracious host, Mr. Zimmermann,” Eric told him after they arrived at the inn.

“It was the very least I could do.” the gentleman replied in earnest, an unspoken apology extended. Eric was genuinely touched by the effort Mr. Zimmermann had made, but his wounds were still tender to the touch. He was unsure if he could accept it.

The innkeeper had given Eric a letter upon the party’s arrival back at the inn, so Eric stepped aside, leaving his aunt and uncle to converse with Mr. Zimmermann, who, to Eric’s surprise, had lingered rather than setting off for his own home. Eric was delighted to see that the letter was from Kent, whose correspondence he had been missing during his travels. He opened it eagerly and began to read, but his excitement faded as his eyes crossed the paper. He glanced over to his aunt, only to find Mr. Zimmermann watching him attentively. Eric quickly looked away, not wanting to reveal his growing distress. He was eventually unable to conceal his fear, and his companions were quick to notice.

“What is the word from home, Eric?” Aunt Judith asked gently.

Eric found it difficult to hold back tears. “Derek has run away. He has–” Eric paused to collect himself, “It is so truly dreadful. He has run away with Mr. Johnson.” Aunt Judith gasped audibly, but it was the clear dread expressed on Mr. Zimmermann’s face that matched the depths of Eric’s despair. “He was visiting my Aunt Connie and it seems Mr. Johnson’s regiment had moved from Madison to be stationed nearby. They have decided to go who knows where. I can not imagine Derek had with him any money, he is without connections. I fear...I fear he is lost to us forever.”

Mr. Zimmermann stepped forward, “I could have prevented this had I revealed the dangerous potentiality of Mr. Johnson sooner. This could have been avoided.”

Eric shook his head, “No. This is entirely my fault. I should have been open with my brothers rather than holding this secret so close to my heart. I acted with good intention and yet...I can not believe I was so sorely mistaken.”

Aunt Judith spoke quietly with her husband, before he went off to gather their things. “We will set off for Madison at once.” she said, “I assume there are already efforts underway to recover him?”

Eric stared in misery at the letter in his hands, “Yes, but so far they have been unsuccessful. Even if we were to find him, he is most likely ruined. Still, if we were to know that he is safe, that would be enough.”

Aunt Judith hugged Eric. “We will find him,” she reassured him.

Mr. Zimmermann looked grave, “I am so deeply sorry. Were there anything I could do, I would.”

Eric swallowed thickly, “I appreciate your sympathies. I do.”

Mr. Zimmermann nodded in understanding, and it occurred to Eric that he was the only one who could fully comprehend Eric’s anguish. “I will leave you so as to not obstruct your efforts. Goodbye, Mr. Bittle.”

At Mr. Zimmermann’s departure, Eric felt more alone than ever.

* * *

 

Derek was married.

Eric and his family received the news several hours after Eric returned to Madison. Miraculously, no conditions were set. Eric had been expecting a demand of at least a hundred pounds a year, but no such request came. Instead they were informed that Derek would be coming back to Madison briefly, along with Mr. Johnson, to see his family one last time before he headed off once again with his new husband.Each member of the family found a different way to cope with the news. Suzanne was delighted and committed herself fully to preparations for Derek’s arrival. Christopher was equal parts excited for his brother and melancholy at his inevitable departure. William was easily irritated, and Eric thought it a manifestation of his own sadness over Derek’s future absence. Richard seemed concerned, though less so now that Derek’s location had been ascertained. Kent helped Suzanne in her preparations, at a loss for why Eric was so displeased. Little did he know that the prospect of seeing the deceptive Mr. Johnson so close to their dear brother made Eric feel ill.

Of course, Derek was anything but ill when he arrived. He had a glow about him and ran to embrace William and Christopher on sight. The love between the three of them touched Eric, and made him all the angrier at Mr. Johnson for stealing his brother away. Mr. Johnson was unperturbed, however, smiling pleasantly.

They sat for dinner and Derek explained with enthusiasm how the marriage transpired. “It was all so terribly serendipitous, just as I go to see Aunt Connie, Mr. Johnson’s regiment is transferred. I was at the store, selecting a new book of poetry to occupy myself with, when none other than Mr. Johnson interrupted my perusal with a recommendation of his own.”

Eric was livid, “I had no idea you were a poet yourself, Mr. Johnson.” Eric said coldly.

Mr. Johnson grinned and replied, “I am expert in whatever is necessary.”

Derek took the remark as a flirtation and laughed, “He has a way with words, does he not? Each turn of phrase is a puzzle, and he is so cool-headed. He remained unflappable, even when Mr. Zimmermann turned up in all his inquietude.”

Eric, who had been trying to ignore the compliments to Mr. Johnson, was surprised to hear the man’s name.“Mr. Zimmermann?” he asked.

Derek smiled mischievously and gestured for Eric to remain quiet in order to avoid drawing attention, “You can not tell a single soul. Mr. Zimmermann was incredibly generous to us, he paid for the wedding in its entirety. He even offered to pay Mr. Johnson a yearly sum, but he declined.” Derek looked at his husband, “ _If thou must love me, let it be for naught, except for love's sake only_.”

Mr. Johnson smiled in return,“Such an offer was not needed for us to move our stories forward.” Eric remained silent, reflecting on the lengths Mr. Zimmermann had gone to, all for his brother. He saw no reason for he and Mr. Zimmermann to ever meet again, but were they to by sheer coincidence, he would have to be sure to make amends for what he had said in throughs of his own hurt and anger. Had he known the man capable of such benevolence perhaps he would have treated him more gently.

After the meal there was a little more conversation before Mr. Johnson insisted they depart, “I would hate to impose by extending this moment longer than is required. You are sure to be busy soon.” Eric watched William, Christopher and Derek hug each other tightly one last time, as if they clung to one another with enough steadfast determination they could forestall their unavoidable separation.

Eventually, they did move apart, but William remained close to Christopher while Derek turned to Eric who did not hesitate to embrace him. “I love you.” he whispered, “Remember that you always have a home here.”

Derek pulled back, “Relax, brother, and know that I could not be more content with what the future has to bring.” Despite his gentle admonishment at Eric’s fretting, Eric could see Derek himself was overcome with emotion. Eric moved away to where Christopher and William stood, allowing Kent and his parents to say their goodbyes. A short time later, Derek and Mr. Johnson waved from their carriage as it rode away.

“How sad it is, to part with one’s children.” Suzanne lamented as she watched them go, “The fate of a mother is to worry when they are with you, but be forlorn when they are without you. Love is such a painful burden to bear.”

Eric was inclined to agree.

**XVI**

Derek’s absence was felt deeply. The family was subject to perpetual quiet without his bickering with William, there was his empty chair at the table, a pause in conversation where he would normally have interjected. Eric did his best to fill the void, trying to temper the melancholy that had settled over the household. But one could only do so much. On this particular day they were gathered in the parlor. Eric had taken to occupying himself with excessive baking and as a consequence they had only just finished a very full luncheon. Appetites sated they whiled away the afternoon, Christopher and William were engaged in a game of Jackstraws. Since his own return from Faber, Kent had become acquainted with a cat that had often been found slinking around their property. Despite being a stray, it had taken to him, which was it came to lounge couch with Kent, speaking to it sweetly. Eric sat with Suzanne, arguing over the finer details of a recipe he had just concocted. Richard was elsewhere, having gone off for his requisite afternoon nap.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

The family looked at one another. Having not expected company, they were confused at who was interrupting their leisure. Christopher took to the window and let out a cry at what he saw, “It is Mr. Mashkov! And he is not alone, Mr. Zimmermann accompanies him!”

Kent’s cat let out a yowl at being displaced, in his surprise he had jumped to his feet, ejecting the animal from his lap. “Do not trifle with me,” Kent said, wide-eyed.

“I do not!” Christopher insisted indignantly, “I see both gentlemen with my own eyes!”

Suzanne went into a state and rushed around the room to tidy, chiding her children’s lax disarray. “Judith had informed me of rumors that Mr. Mashkov meant to return to his home at Samwell, but it had yet to be confirmed!” she dithered,“I had hardly thought– Kent, do fix your hair!” Eric exchanged a look of bewilderment with Kent as they righted themselves, and everyone had only just settled when the maid came in to introduce their visitors. “A Mr. Mashkov and Mr. Zimmermann, m’am.” she said as the men entered the room.

Mr. Mashkov had eyes for only Kent, though he looked abashed at intruding on their afternoon. Kent himself had fixed his expression with cool indifference, but Eric could see the frightened vulnerability that sat behind his eyes. “How lovely it is to see you, Mr. Mashkov, Mr. Zimmermann.” Suzanne said.

Mr. Mashkov smiled politely, “You too. We just come by to–”

Suzanne interrupted, “You have been gone for too long. So much has changed in your absence.” For all that her tone evoked courteousness, Eric knew that a loving mother was not to be played with. No doubt she would not easily forget the pain Mr. Mashkov had caused to Kent. “My youngest has only just been married. It is so nice to know a gentleman capable of commitment, is it not?”

Mr. Mashkov winced, flushing in embarrassment, “I heard and wanted to congratulate.”

Eric, knowing the purity of Mr. Mashkov’s true character, intervened. “Do you plan to stay at Samwell long, Mr. Mashkov?” he asked.

Mr. Mashkov looked at him gratefully, “Not too long. Just for shooting.” Eric turned his attention to the man’s companion. “And you, Mr. Zimmermann?” he asked innocently.

“I leave to return to Providence tomorrow,” he replied.

Eric hoped he concealed his flash of disappointment, “Oh, well. I wish you a safe and pleasant journey.”

Mr. Zimmermann nodded in thanks and turned to his friend, “Perhaps we should–”.

“Be going!” Mr. Mashkov cut in.

Mr. Zimmermann looked bewildered, “But we have not yet–”

Mr. Mashkov stopped him short again, “Just came by to say hello. Was nice to see. Goodbye!” He left abruptly, leaving Mr. Zimmermann standing in his wake. Confused, Mr. Zimmermann bid goodbye as well before heading after his friend. As soon as they left, Kent sagged with relief, no longer obliged to put on airs.Eric moved to sit next to him and placed a comforting arm around his shoulders. “I have grave news.” he said, to Kent’s alarm, “Mr. Mashkov is as madly in love with you as ever.”

Kent’s concern shifted to good humor and he let out a choked laugh, “You do tease me so.”

Eric tilted his head, “I may poke fun, but my words are grounded in truth.”

Kent shook his head in disbelief, “It is like he said, the visit was purely out of civility. Most likely he wanted to disrupt the discomfort that hangs between us. Now he is free to move on and I am free to content myself to a long life of solitude. Eric wanted to protest, but the cat’s meowing at their feet interrupted him. Kent cooed, and picked her up. “Of course, Kit. How rude of me. A life of solitude with you as my sole companion.”

“He’s back!” Christopher announced suddenly, once again at the window.

Eric looked to Kent, whose expression appeared hopeful. “How committed are you to your life of eternal seclusion?” Eric asked.

Kent swatted him, but further chastisement was abandoned as Mr. Mashkov indeed walked in, this time unaccompanied by Mr. Zimmermann. “I am wanting to speak to Mr. Bittle.” Mr. Mashkov requested, “Alone, please.” Eric hugged Kent briefly before he stood, ushering William and Christopher out of the room, as well as his mother. Mischievous as they were they allowed themselves to be pulled outside of the room but immediately pressed their ears tightly to the door in an attempt to overhear the conversation ensuing inside.

The wait was torture of a unique kind. Eric was confident in his suspicions about what was being said, but that did little to lessen his anxieties as he held his breath for confirmation. After what felt like an agonizing length of time, the door to the parlor slowly opened. Kent stood in its frame, and Eric could not recall a time when he had seen his brother smile brighter. Mr. Mashkov stood at his shoulder beaming with a happiness that matched Kent’s, Kit tenderly held in his arms.

“Should I be offering my congratulations?” Eric asked tentatively and as Kent’s smile grew further Eric knew the answer to be yes. Without hesitation, he surged forward and hugged Kent who laughed giddily.

“I am so deliriously happy.” Kent whispered, and Eric felt tears gather in his eyes, “I still believe our hearts to be vulnerable, but I think mine has found a safe home.”

**XVII**

Kent and Eric laid in their bed as they had so many nights before, but there was a unique air of excitement that could only be brought about by a truly joyous event. “I did not think it possible” Kent said, marveling at the day’s events, “for a person to be so good.”

Eric looked seriously at his brother, “It does not do to get ahead of yourself. You have yet to discover if he snores.”

Kent rolled his eyes, but the smile he had been sporting all afternoon and evening remained in place. “I would not care if he snored so loudly that sleeping was impossible,” Kent said, but Eric gave him a look. “Fine. I would care, but it would hardly dissuade me.” Kent conceded primly.

Eric moved his head to rest on Kent’s shoulder. “I do not think I could bear to part with you for anyone less decent.” he said softly, “It will be lonely without you.”

Kent nudged him, “Do you think yourself capable of getting rid of me so easily?”

Eric snorted, “I know that to rid myself of you altogether is impossible, but” his humor sobered, “I also know it will not be the same once you are married.”

Kent was somber as well, and they laid in silence for a moment, reflecting on how change could be both kind and cruel. The peace of their contemplation was broken by the sound of an urgent knock at the door. They slipped from their bed and went to the hall where Christopher and William had gathered as well, and the four of them descended to the foyer where their father had just answered the door. Both Richard and Suzanne turned to look at him with concern, and it was then that Eric realized Lord Whisk stood among them.

“Lord Whisk.” Eric said, “To what do we owe this unexpected pleasure?”

Lord Whisk looked grim and made it clear he had no time for pleasantries, evidenced enough by how he had refused to engage in conversation prior to Eric’s arrival. “I must speak with you immediately regarding a matter of great urgency.” Lord Whisk said stiffly, and without waiting, walked into the adjoining drawing room. Eric followed, unsure of what issue could warrant his participation. For privacy, he shut the door behind him and upon turning was met with the cold gaze of Lord Whisk. “You can not be so ignorant, Mr. Bittle, as to not know why I am here,” he said, clearly with the expectation that they had some kind of understanding between them.

“I am afraid you are mistaken, I am entirely surprised by your arrival,” Eric replied honestly.

Lord Whisk’s expression became colder, “I do not appreciate deceit, Mr. Bittle.”

Eric crossed his arms, offended by the accusation but endeavoring to remain polite “I would not think myself so clever as to be capable of deceiving your lordship, nor am disposed to wasting your time in such a way. I think it best that you speak frankly, considering that I am so uninformed.”

Lord Whisk took a step forward, “I have caught word that you are engaged to Mr. Zimmermann.” Eric could not help by laugh at the ridiculousness of the proposition, something Lord Whisk did not appreciate. “Your impertinence is unbecoming. I would not have made the journey had I not believed it to be true.”

Eric huffed another incredulous laugh, “Then your lordship will be disappointed to hear that your travel was for naught.”

Lord Whisk moved closer, no doubt a gesture of intimidation, “You have no desire to be united with him?”

Eric dropped his gaze, “That is a question of a different sort, sir. And the answer is a private one.”

Lord Whisk shook his head, “Your reply is unacceptable. I can not leave until I have received confirmation that not only is the suggestion untrue, it has no possibility of becoming a reality.”

Eric kept his eyes firmly on the ground, “I am afraid I can not offer that commitment to you. While I can confirm that Mr. Zimmermann and I are not involved as you have heard, my feelings are of a personal nature and will be shared at my discretion.”

Lord Whisked scoffed, “May the Lord take pity on Providence were it to become occupied by someone so grievously self-important. Do you believe with genuine conviction that you are so special that it renders you capable of transcending the limitations of your lack of nobility and wealth? Mr. Zimmermann and my brother have been bound for one another since birth. It is what our families desired, and so it shall be. To think that this plan could be soiled by your delusions of consequence is insulting, to say the least.”

“I believe,” Eric said quietly, “that it would be best for your lordship to leave now.”

He doubted he had ever felt more insignificant than he did in this moment.

**XVIII**

Eric slept restlessly. Between Lord Whisk’s insults, his family’s pestering as to why his lordship had come at all and the fact that all this unpleasant excitement had detracted from Kent’s good news, it was difficult for his mind to find peace. At dawn, he decided he could no longer stand laying dormant and crept out of bed, downstairs and out of the house. Fresh air always cleared his head, and the early morning light reminded him that the forthcoming day could be filled with more welcome possibilities than the previous evening had brought him.

He walked beyond the grounds of the family home and into the meadow that lay just beyond it. The world was waking, birds chirped in the trees and the sky grew brighter. Eric kept his eyes on the horizon, not wanting to think about what waited for him at home. As he walked, a figure emerged from the early morning mist. Eric stopped, unsure. It was unlikely that it was anyone who meant harm, but it was best to be sure. The figure kept moving closer and it was then that Eric realized. It was Mr. Zimmermann.

He was not as buttoned up as was typical for him, but neither was he in disarray. Instead, he had a soft look about him, one that Eric was able to appreciate up close as Mr. Zimmermann stopped before him. “I knew you were fond of walking, Mr. Bittle, but I had no idea how committed you were to be doing it at such an early hour.” Mr. Zimmermann teased.

Eric smiled, “ I could say the same to you, Mr. Zimmermann. I have a justifiable excuse at least, I slept poorly.”

Mr. Zimmermann frowned, “For that, I am sorry. I have heard that my cousin disrupted the peace of your home yesterday evening. No doubt he was the cause of your distress.”

Eric blushed and looked away, “No matter. The issue was resolved.”

Mr. Zimmermann moved closer, only serving to intensify Eric’s blush, “Was it? Only, my cousin seemed dissatisfied with what he had heard, which led me to think…”

Eric looked up to find Mr. Zimmermann staring intently at him. “Which led you to think–?” he prompted.

Mr. Zimmermann reached out and tenderly enveloped Eric’s hand in his, “Which led me to think that perhaps the affections I previously expressed to you were not in vain.” Eric was silent, giving Mr. Zimmermann unspoken permission to continue. “One word from you will silence me forever. I do not wish to force my feelings unwillingly upon you. But were I given a new opportunity to express my sentiments, perhaps more elegantly than I did the first time,” he took a deep breath, “I would be obliged to tell you that my feelings remain unchanged. For how could they change? You have bewitched me, body and soul. And I–”

“And you,” Eric whispered.

“I love you.”

Eric swallowed, attempting to repress the tears he felt threatening to come to the surface. With an equal share of tenderness that Mr. Zimmermann had given him, he placed his hand on the man’s cheek. “Were I given the same opportunity, _I_ would be obliged to tell you that my feelings have _very much_ changed. I would willingly admit that you were not the man I mistakenly thought you to be. You are a good man, of kindness and of character. And.”

Mr. Zimmermann smiled down at him, and Eric thought that this must be the delirious happiness Kent had been so lucky to feel himself. “And?” he prompted.

“And I love you,” Eric said, tears spilling over.

Mr. Zimmermann leaned down as Eric leaned up, and they came together, two hearts, in the early morning sun.

**XIX**

_epilogue_

Their engagement came as a surprise to those who knew them, but no more so than to Eric and Jack themselves. Reflecting on all that had happened, Eric wanted to laugh at how silly they both had been. Jack had, admittedly, been wrong on many a count, but Eric had been equally mistaken. Their folly seemed to only increase the affection they had for one another, both marveling that after all this time they had managed to find each other.

Eric’s father had expressed concern when his son had announced their wish to marry, perhaps he was being coerced? But upon Eric’s explanation of Mr. Zimmerman’s true heart, there was no other proper response but a hearty blessing given for their marriage. As Richard said, _“There can be no doubt that if you love this man as much as I love your mother, your marriage will be an endlessly happy one.”_

Eric had settled into life at Providence easily and was never lonely as his husband had insisted he host his brothers whenever he was inclined to. This was his home after all. They all got on famously with Ford, Christopher, William and Derek in particular. As Mr. Zimmermann and Mr. Mashkov were good friends, Eric saw Kent frequently. Larissa had come to stay at one point, bringing Mr. Knight along with her. The visit provided opportunity for Eric’s husband and Larissa’s to get to know one another more intimately beyond the formalities they were accustomed to, and in a surprising turn of events, they grew to hold a fondness for one another, compatible in the profound difference of their personalities.

Jack delighted Eric daily, never without wit when his husband was in need of a laugh, or an arm to cry on during his lowest days. With all that Jack had given him, it was possible for Eric to worry that perhaps he took too much and gave too little in return. But any concerns vanished with Jack’s frequent expressions of love for him.

Jack had taken to such an expression this evening as they sat on the terrace in their night clothes. The seasons were turning, summer was coming and Eric had suggested they enjoy the warmer temperature and fresh air before retiring to bed. Jack, in all his silliness, was pretending to be troubled. “If I must call your Mr. Zimmermann in public and Eric in private, what shall I call you to evoke true feeling?”

Eric considered this, stroking the back of his husband’s hand as he did. “Why not sweetheart, as I call you?”

Jack shook his head, “You must have a name of your own.”

Eric feigned a sigh, “Of course, how thoughtless of me to forget that very important rule.”

“No matter,” Jack said, and he leaned forward to press a kiss to Eric’s forehead “I forgive you.”

Eric smiled warmly, “How gracious of you to do so.”

Jack laughed, but then paused, “I think I have it.”

Eric raised an eyebrow, “Oh? What is your decision then?”

Jack raised both of Eric’s hands where he held them, and pressed a kiss to his pinky. “Mr. Zimmermann in public.” he kissed another finger, “Eric in private.” He continued to drop kisses to Eric’s hands as he listed, “Husband for when I am feeling fond, Bittle for when I am cross, though it is rare, Bitty for when I am content and most importantly, Bits. For when I am unbelievably, undeniably, deliriously happy.”

Eric felt his expression go soft. This man.

“Whatever you wish, sweetheart.” he said, giving Jack’s hands a kiss of their own. Jack stood and Eric looked up; they took a moment to really look at each other.

 

“Bits?” Jack said finally.

 

“Yes, Jack?” Eric asked.

 

“I’m happy.”

**Author's Note:**

> I would be remiss if I didn't acknowledge a number of people who made this possible. On tumblr, thank you to: @thewritingninja for your help with names, @blackberrypieisdeliciou, @onceuponatmi and @postal-inspector-groat for your excitement over the excerpt I posted, @thisladylovesmilktray for your likes and compliments on my writing (I have your prompt and I’ll get to it!!), @shutupimgaynurse @honeyhusk @foryouandbits and especially @creative-cabbage for your feedback and character contributions, and @knightduan and @labelleizzy who TWO YEARS AGO said I should write this. This the longest, most ambitious and self-indulgent thing I have ever written, so even the smallest tags and likes kept me going. 
> 
> I referenced the 2005 film and the text itself pretty heavily, so if dialogue seems similar (if not entirely identical) that's why. Some lines just couldn't be beat. Nursey's dialogue in italics is a quote from Elizabeth Barrett Browning's Sonnets from the Portuguese XIV. 
> 
> If you liked my writing, drop by jackzimmermannn.tumblr.com for more!


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